Not So Easy
by Winter1066
Summary: Dean's not having a good time down in the Big Easy
1. Chapter 1

I'd like to thank Tidia for being my beta. Also thanks to Ridley C. James for letting me borrow Caleb and Mac

Chapter 1

Large oaks lined the backwoods road like sentinels. The branches were covered in Spanish moss. To John they looked like macabre props in a horror movie. He'd be happier on the highway but safety could be found on less traveled roads. John glanced at his eldest. Dean pretended to be asleep. For the past two weeks Dean had withdrawn into himself. He gave his father only 'yes, sir' and 'no sir' answers. He also started to hustle pool more. Not that it was a bad thing, but it was where Dean was doing it. He'd pick some of the roughest bars in whatever town they stopped. Sometimes he wished he could just talk to his son, but he was out of practice. If he started now Dean would think he was possessed. John sighed as he turned his attention back to the road.

Dean knew his father was watching him as he continued to play possum. He didn't want to talk to his father. Hell, he never could talk to him. John Winchester expected only one thing from his eldest. Follow orders. The blond was the perfect soldier. The truth was he wanted someone else to do the thinking for him, so he didn't have to worry for Sam. His brother had left a year ago to follow his college dream. Dean sighed, opening his eyes to look out the window. The one disadvantage of the Impala was its lack of air conditioning. All the windows were open, but Louisiana was not a state to go without AC in a car. Lake Ponchitrain came into view and he was glad this drive was almost over. He propped his right forearm on the window, hissing as he forgot the stitches his father had put in last night.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine- the stitches."

John glanced at Dean to make sure he was alright. "We better clean them when we get to town," John said. "Don't want them to get infected."

"Yes, Sir."

"We'll be staying with Mackland." John knew that would get Dean's attention as his son turned to look at him. "Mac's in for a conference. Caleb decided to visit since he was between hunts and work."

Dean turned away, staring across the water. The lake always impressed Dean. It was huge. Once in the middle of the bridge you lost all sight of land. The blond didn't mind crossing this bridge. It was close to the water and completely flat. Caleb wasn't impressed by it. If it didn't soar over an empty space then the dark haired hunter wasn't interested. But Caleb did concede that the bridge was damned impressive for its length. Dean smiled. It would be good to see Caleb and Mac. Maybe he could get away with Caleb for a few days.

"I figure you and Caleb could check out this spirit I heard about while we're here."

Leave it to his father to make this a working vacation. "Sure."

John hoped for more than a one-word answer. He was worried enough about Dean's behavior to contact Mackland. The neurosurgeon suggested a vacation. Therefore John invited himself to New Orleans. Mac didn't object, saying he'd see them in three days. Once across the bridge John headed into the heart of the French Quarter.

"In the glove box there's a piece of paper with directions to the house Mackland rented."

Dean opened the compartment grabbing the nickel-plated revolver as it tumbled out. He grabbed the paper, put the gun back, and slammed the box closed. Dean stared at the paper, conceding defeat.

"Geez, Dad, you expect me to read this?"

"Give it to me."

Dean handed him the paper. While his father was stopped at a light he scanned the paper. As the light turned green he turned right. At least he could read his own cryptic writing. Dean was surprised when his father turned on Bourbon Street. The houses along this road were old and expensive. Most had wrought iron balconies overlooking the street. John stopped in front of one, checking the number.

"This is it," he said. "Go open the gate."

Dean noticed the large gate next to the house. In the olden days this would have led to the carriage house. Now it held carriages of a different sort. Dean climbed out of the Impala and over to the gate. There was an intercom on the wall and Dean hit the button.

"Who is it?"

"Hey, Mac, it's Dean."

Dean heard a buzz and pushed the gate. John drove the Impala down the alley to the back of the house. Dean closed the gate then walked towards the car. Once the growl of the engine died Dean was surprised to hear cicadas thrilling loudly in the trees. The blond walked over to the trunk, pulling out the bags. John headed to the back porch empty handed. Dean glared as he grabbed his father's duffle, throwing it over his shoulder. He grabbed his as well and followed.

"It's about time you got here." Caleb leaned by the back door as John pulled open the door leading into the screened in porch.

"Didn't know we were supposed to be here at a particular time," John said.

"I was bored, figured you'd liven things up," Caleb said, stepping back to let John and Dean in. "Let me take one of those."

"I've got it, Damien" Dean said, belligerently. "This is the job for a grunt; just tell me where to put them."

"Up the stairs," Caleb explained. "Your room is the first one on the right. Johnny's two doors down."

Dean stormed through the kitchen almost bowling Mackland over. The blond didn't look back as he stomped up the stairs. Caleb raised his eyebrows at his father, but didn't say anything.

"That's what I've been dealing with." John opened the refrigerator and looked for a beer.

"Maybe if you didn't use him as a pack horse he wouldn't be so pissed." Caleb defended his friend.

"Have you tried talking to him?" Mac asked.

John just rolled his eyes.

"I'll take that as a 'no.'"

"You know we're not the talking kind of family," John said.

Caleb snorted. "You're finally admitting that?"

"You are not helping, Son." Mac scolded. "Maybe Dean will open up at dinner. I've made reservations for seven at the Court of the Two Sisters."

"How about take out?" John did not do fancy restaurants. He found them uncomfortable.

Mackland frowned, and crossed his arms. He was not going to be dissuaded. "How about we share a nice meal at a nice restaurant and you pretend to enjoy it."

"I'm not wearing a tie."

"Do you even own one?" Reaves prompted.

They heard Dean come down the stairs. As he stepped into the kitchen they could see he'd changed while he was upstairs. The white bandage on his forearm was stark against the black T-shirt and dark jeans. The dark bruising surrounding the cut was clearly visible under the bandage.

"Going for the walking wounded look?" Caleb commented about the bandage.

"Where are you going?" John asked.

"Out."

"Mac made dinner reservations. He's making us go." John said.

"I'll meet you there," Dean offered.

John was about to argue but Caleb spoke up. "I'll go with you."

"You don't even know where I'm going."

"I have a pretty good idea." Caleb smiled. "We'll meet you at the restaurant."

Mac watched as his son followed Dean out the back door. He gestured to the beer in John's hand. "I'll have one of those."

John grabbed a second one from the refrigerator, and joined Mackland at the table. The doctor could see the older Winchester was frustrated.

"You have to try talking to him."

"I don't know how," John admitted.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

"So what have you been up to?" Caleb asked. Dean gave him a 'what do you think' look. "Besides hunting."

"What else it there?" Dean said, jamming his hands in his jeans pockets. "That's my life, Damien."

"Yeah, John can been pretty single minded." Caleb sighed. "Some girl into something kinky?" Reaves gestured to the arm bandage.

"Wasn't paying attention." Dean shrugged. "Angry spirit got the jump on me."

Reaves wasn't sure what was bothering his friend. Sure he could read him to find out, but he wouldn't invade the blond's privacy. He'd just have to wait, no matter how long it took.

"Come on, I know one of the best pool halls."

"Reading my mind, Damien?"

"Like I'd want to read your freaky mind." Caleb laughed. "I just know you, let's go."

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

Dean smiled as he walked along Royal Street towards the Court of the Two Sisters. Caleb was right. He knew the best pool hall. Hustling pool in the Big Easy was always a challenge and Dean loved it. Everyone was hustling and knew it. To be able to beat someone at their own game was the challenge. The older gentleman Dean hustled had been impressed and said so. The blond just smiled as he took the money and left. The dark haired hunter walked along beside his friend feeling more relaxed. They stepped through the doors of the fancy restaurant stopping by the host stand.

"Dr. Mackland Ames's table."

"Ah yes, he's out in the courtyard," the man replied. "If you'll follow me."

Caleb pushed Dean to follow. The blond sighed and figured he might as well get this over with. They walked through the main restaurant outside to the courtyard. The arbors over the open air space were heavy with wisteria. Other trees grew in the courtyard and were wrapped in white lights. The host led them to a table by the brick wall.

"Good, just in time to order drinks," Mac said in greeting.

"I'll have a Bud," Dean told the waiter as he sat down.

"I'll take the same," Caleb ordered.

John didn't say anything as he watched Dean take a seat. He just hoped Caleb was able to figure out what was bothering his son. The youngest picked up his menu trying to decide what to get as the waiter returned with the drinks.

"Can I take your orders?"

The waiter went around the table taking everyone's orders. When he was gone Mackland turned to Dean.

"Did you boys find anything interesting when you went out?"

"We went to the Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop for a bit," Caleb answered. "Listened to a bit of Jazz."

"That place was pretty cool," Dean added.

"I know it well." Mac smiled. "Did you know it was actually owned by Jean Lafitte the pirate?"

"Yeah?" Dean knew the story already but why spoil Mac's fun.

The neurosurgeon saw the younger hunter smiling. "So you heard it already?"

Dean laughed. "Deuce got the story from the pretty red haired bar maid," Caleb commented.

"And after?" John asked.

Dean looked at his father trying to decide if he'd answer or not. "We hustled some pool. I thought it was entertaining."

"Excuse me?" John scowled

"Caleb," Mac sighed.

Reaves grabbed Dean's neck giving it a shake. "You're dead."

The blond laughed. "Lighten up. We just played some pool at Grit's Bar."

John just shook his head as Mac smiled. Dean opened up a bit more after teasing Caleb. Mackland questioned the cut, and Dean told him about the hunt and resulting injury. The doctor commented he'd take a look at it when they got back to the house.

"Can I get you gentlemen some desert?" The diligent waiter asked.

"I'll have the Bananas Foster," Mac said.

"You'll lose you girlish figure," John commented.

"I don't care about my girlish figure," Dean commented. "Do you have chocolate cake?"

"We have a seven layer chocolate cake that's excellent," the waiter answered.

"I'll have that," Dean said as Caleb snickered. "What?"

"Dude, chocolate cake? What are you twelve?"

"Hey, when do I ever get the chance to order anything I want," Dean said, leaning back. "Especially when I'm not buying."

Another round of drinks was ordered and Mac offered a toast.

"To good friends."

They all raised their glasses but Caleb could feel Dean's good mood vanish. The youngest ate his dessert in silence. Mac looked at his son who shrugged helplessly. The walk back to the house was awkward. Caleb tried to engage Dean in a conversation, but the blond just shrugged or gave him single word answers. When they got back to the house Dean went straight up to his room, shutting the door.

"That worked out well," John said sarcastically, heading for his room.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

Dean peeled his sweaty jeans and T-shirt off and lay on top of the covers. He was so glad this house had air conditioning or he'd be going crazy. Dinner was going pretty well until Mac made that stupid toast. He didn't know why he'd been so disappointed Mackland had forgotten. Hell, his father couldn't even remember so why should he expect the doctor too. Dean grabbed his phone off the table and scrolled through his contacts. He stopped on one and stared at it for a while. It had been almost a year and his dad wouldn't even talk about his brother. Dean closed the phone and threw it across the room.

"Happy Birthday, Sammy."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 

Mackland Ames sat sipping his coffee as he read the paper. He knew he only had a few minutes before the quiet morning would be over. The shower upstairs ended a few minutes ago and he just waited for either of the two young men to come down. He heard someone on the stairs. Caleb walked into the kitchen, heading straight for the coffee maker.

"Morning."

"Hey," Caleb said, pouring a cup of coffee.

"There's eggs and bacon in the fridge."

"Can't be bothered," Reaves said, grabbing a muffin from the basket on the counter

Mac smiled as he watched his son take a seat at the table. "Dean up yet?"

"Yeah, he's taking a shower."

"He can't get those stitches wet," Ames remarked.

"Don't worry," Caleb said around a mouthful of muffin. "We sacrificed a plastic bag and some duct tape."

Caleb grabbed the sports section and settled into read. Mackland was getting more coffee when Dean walked into the kitchen.

"Dude, could you put this on tighter?" Dean said, holding up his arm. "I can't get it off."

"You're the one who told me to make it so the water couldn't get in."

"Thanks," Dean said, sarcastically. "Was going to use my knife to get it off but I didn't think Mac would appreciate having to add more sutures."

"You're so helpless," Caleb said, walking over to Dean.

Reaves grabbed the blond's arm pulling at the duct tape. He got the end started then quickly pulled.

"Damn, Damien! Just maim me why don't ya."

"It's off." Caleb shrugged returning the paper.

Dean rubbed his arm. "Yeah along with all my hair."

"If you boys are finished torturing each other I'd like to take a look at that arm before I leave." Mac grabbed the black bag off the counter.

"You always travel with your medical kit?" Dean asked.

"I knew you were coming," Mac smiled.

Dean just shook his head. "Dad gone already?"

"He was gone before I was up."

Dean sat at the table next to Mac. The neurosurgeon pulled on some gloves before cleaning the wound. If there was one thing John knew how to do it was stitches. Dean winced as Mac gently probed the bruising around the sutures.

"These look good," Mac said, spreading Neosporin over the sutures. "There shouldn't be much of a scar."

"Doesn't matter." Dean shrugged as Mac bandaged the wound. "I've already got plenty to go with this."

"If I don't leave now, I'll be late for the conference," Mac said, glancing at his watch. 

After Mackland left, Dean walked over to the coffee maker and poured a cup. "So what's the plan?"

"What plan?"

"Dad wanted you to checkout an angry spirit," Dean said

"We don't always have to do what he says." Reaves saw the 'have you lost your mind' look Dean shot his way. "Yeah he did mention something about it."

Dean grabbed one of the muffins and brought his breakfast to the table. "Where are his notes?"

Reaves pushed a few papers towards the blond. Dean sifted through them and could see his dad didn't have that much information.

"We can't go with just this."

"Nope, we hit the library first."

"The library," Dean groaned. "Can't we just go stake the place out?"

"You're the one who said we can't go with just this," Reaves said, waving the pages in front of him. "Too bad Sammy's not here. He loves the library."

Caleb was taken back as the younger hunter got up and stormed from the room. The dark haired hunter was starting to figure out what was bothering his friend. If he knew John, the man probably never mentioned Sam at all. That had to be hard on Dean whose whole life had been taking care of his younger brother. Reaves knew it was hard when Sam left, but he never knew just how hard.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 

Dean sat in Caleb's Jeep drinking a cup of coffee. Earlier in the day the two hunters researched the background of Marie Renault St. Claire. The police reports said she was murdered and raped inside her home. That combination made for an angry spirit. They also found she was a voodoo priestess. After gathering everything they could from the library they went to talk to her neighbors. Everyone insisted she was a beautiful woman who helped the community. Her death was a terrible waste. It was rumored the death was done by a rival voodoo priest, but there was no evidence until followers of the priest started turning up dead. The house was boarded up and abandoned. It had been that way for two years since the murder. No one wanted to buy it.

"Are we just going to sit here all night?" Dean groused.

"What? You have a hot date?"

"I could," Dean answered. "This is Nola after all."

Caleb laughed. "It sure is."

"Come on this is boring." The younger man sighed. "Let's just go in and check it out."

"Deuce, this spirit used to be a voodoo priestess," Caleb argued. "There's no telling what she'll do."

"Could be fun." Dean smiled.

"You're crazy," Reaves said, shaking his head. "Let's just wait a little longer. It's only eight o'clock."

"Fine." Dean rolled his eyes. "Got anything good to read?"

Caleb watched as Dean reached behind the seat. He grabbed two paperbacks then leaned back in the seat. Winchester flipped over the first book and read the back. He wasn't in the mood for a tale of life on a small island in Puget Sound where a murder took place in the 1950's. The second one sounded more interesting. Caleb glanced over to see which one Dean picked.

"That's a good one," the dark haired hunter remarked. "WEB Griffin really pulls you in."

"Didn't know you were into cop stories." Dean smiled. "Seeing is how we try to avoid them."

"Men in Blue is part of a good series. You'll like it."

The sun was just setting, but the twilight made it difficult to read. Dean opened the book, pulled out a flashlight and settled back to read.

"So what do you think of Johnny's new pick up?'

"I think it's a waste," Dean grumbled, flipping the page.

"Why do you say that?"

Dean held his place as he looked at Caleb. "Because we have to spend more for gas -I'll be following him in the Impala."

"Yeah, but you get the Impala."

"Do I?" Dean asked angrily.

Reaves looked hard at Dean. "Is there something going on between you and your father?"

"No." Dean looked away, reading the same paragraph he had just finished.

"Could have fooled me." Dean turned and glared at Caleb. "No, I'm not reading you. I don't have to."

"Look." Dean sighed. "We've been cooped up together for almost a year without a break."

The older hunter stared at Dean. He could tell he wasn't getting the whole story, but wasn't about to push. "I can see where you could use a break."

"And so can Dad." Dean smiled. "That's why he pawned me off on you."

"Remind me to thank him."

Dean laughed and turned back to his book. They sat watching the house until about midnight. The blond was enjoying the book and was surprised to see it was so late. He dog eared the page and put the book on the dash.

"Can we go now?"

"Might as well," Caleb said. "I don't think anyone will notice us now."

"Yeah, like they haven't noticed us sitting here for the past four hours."

Caleb wasn't too worried about the neighbors. In this area people tended to mind their own business. Dean climbed out of the Jeep. He cracked the shotgun checking the load of rock salt. Satisfied, he closed it again and patted his pockets for the extra rounds.

"All set?"

Dean turned to Caleb. "Yeah, let's do this."

Reaves handed the younger hunter a flashlight as they headed for the house. They bypassed the front door, heading for the back. The house was an old shotgun style home. Single level, only one room wide. The style was long and the theory was you could shoot down one end of the hall clear to the other end of the house and not hit anything. They climbed over the debris covering the screened-in porch. The back door was hanging off its hinges. Caleb switched on his flashlight and squeezed though. Dean followed close behind. They entered the sitting room and made their way to the hall. As they looked down the hallway they could see the front door at the other end. Closed doors on the right and left lead to other rooms. Reaves pointed to the one on his left. Dean nodded and took the one on the right. Before they could open the doors the temperature stared to drop.

"Damn," Caleb muttered. His breath steamed in the frigid air.

"She is that." Dean smiled opening the door.

The younger hunter stepped through the door. It slammed shut behind him blasting Caleb with frigid air.

"Dean!" Caleb yelled, ramming his shoulder into the unyielding surface.

Dean whirled as the door slammed. The room was covered in frost. He swung the shotgun up next to the flashlight and panned the room. Along one wall were shelves. The light flashed off glass surfaces of jars and vials. Dried plants hung from the ceiling in bundles. Dean could hear Caleb banging against the door.

The temperature dropped again and Dean saw something taking shape. Before he could get a shot off an unseen force slammed him against the wall. The shotgun and flashlight clattered to the floor on impact. Struggling was useless and Dean watched as a woman formed across the room. There was no denying she was beautiful with her mahogany colored skin. Her long hair was in dreadlocks reaching to her knees. As she got closer Dean was captured by her startling blue eyes. She reached out her right hand capturing his neck. Slowly she raised him off the floor.

" 'Chere find me beautiful?" Her Cajun patois was sultry. Dean struggled against her but couldn't deny what she said. "All men de thought me so."

"Not me, bitch!" Dean choked.

"But dat is a lie." She smiled, stroking his cheek. "I can read it in your mind. Other tings as well, mon ami. A friend lost, a brother. But I am not the danger. Look to those closer."

Dean had no idea what she was talking about but didn't have time to question her as she effortlessly sent him flying into the wall. He crashed against the shelves and slid to the floor. The contents of the jars and vials spilling all around him.

Caleb had no idea what was going on inside the room. He could hear nothing as if the room was sealed. The door would not give. Reaves was about to blast it with the shotgun when he noticed the temperature begin to rise. With the change the dark-haired hunter knew the spirit was gone. He kicked the door and it splintered under his assault. As he entered the room he held the gun at the ready as he swept the room. He saw Dean in a crumbled heap across the room.

"Deuce!" Caleb rushed to his side.

The older hunter reached for Dean's neck, sighing in relief as he felt a strong pulse. He carefully rolled Dean to his back to assess the damage. A cut above his left eye bleed profusely. Caleb winced when he saw the dislocated left shoulder. The hunter carefully checked along the younger mans ribs, thankful to find none broken. When he was finished and found no other injures Caleb positioned Dean over his shoulder. He carefully made it out of the house and back to the Jeep. Once Dean was settled in the passenger seat, Reaves quickly moved around to the driver's side and climbed in. As he drove away he flipped open his phone and hit a number on speed dial.

"Dad, we're coming in hot."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 

Caleb pulled up to the house to see the gate leading into the property was open. He quickly brought the Jeep around to the back to find Mac and John waiting for them.

"What happened?" John asked as he opened the passenger door. Mackland stepped in to help John get Dean out of the car

"Damn spirit barred the door behind Dean," Caleb said. "I couldn't get it open. When I finally got it open I found him unconscious."

They got Dean to his room. Caleb stepped back as his father sat on the bed pulling on a pair of gloves. He opened his black bag and moved into check the cut over the blond's left eye.

"What's this all over him?" John asked, wiping his hands on his jeans.

"The wall he crashed into was lined with shelves," Caleb explained. "Who knows what was in all the jars."

"The laceration isn't so bad," Ames said. "It will need a couple of stitches. But we need to get that dislocated shoulder taken care of first."

Each of the men had done this before. Caleb sat on the bed and took a tight hold of Dean. John came to stand along side Mac, gently taking his sons left arm. The doctor placed his hand on Dean's shoulder to guide the bone back into the socket. He nodded at the others. The older Winchester pulled Dean's arm straight out and they all heard the audible pop as Mackland guided the head back into the socket.

"God, I hate that sound." Caleb shuddered.

"I'm just glad he wasn't awake," John said stepping back. "Last time I had to that it scared the hell out of Sam when his brother screamed."

"Sammy always was a bit dramatic," Caleb teased.

"Mac, is he going o be okay?" John asked, ignoring Reaves's comment.

Ames lifted Dean's right eyelid checking the pupil with a penlight. "He has a slight concussion," he answered, checking the left eye. "He'll have one hell of a headache, but he'll be fine."

"I'll go get some water and towels to clean him up," Caleb offered.

John pulled his sons boots off, then his jeans. Mac pulled out a pair of scissors to start on the shirt.

"You cut that shirt and Dean will kill you," John commented.

"We'll never get it off with out cutting," the older hunter said. "Besides it's an old AC/DC shirt. I'll get him another."

Mac began to cut it when he heard John mumble. "What was that?"

"Nothing," John said angrily.

"Damn, Dad, Dean's going to kill you," Caleb said, stepping into the room noticing the cut shirt. "Sam gave him that shirt."

When Dean was finally stripped of his clothes they washed away the residue from his encounter with the shelf. Ames gave special attention to the cut above his eye. He wanted to make sure it was thoroughly clean before stitching it up. Caleb and John watched as the older hunter put twelve very small stitches in the laceration to close it.

"That's all I can do for him," Mackland said, placing his equipment in his bag and closing it.

"Do you want to strap that shoulder?" John asked.

The neurosurgeon looked up. "We'll leave it for now."

"Well, I'm hungry," Reaves, announced. "I'm heading downstairs."

John stood to follow. "Good, you can tell me, in detail, what exactly happened."

Mac smiled as he heard his son arguing with his mentor as they left the room.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

_" 'Chere, wake up."_

Dean tried to ignore the voice. The loud drum solo in his head was not a pleasant way to wake up.

_" 'Chere, you must find your brother."_

"Sam?"

Dean slowly sat up and stifled a curse as his shoulder shifted. He hugged his left arm to his chest as he looked around the room. It wasn't familiar to him and he wondered where he was. Throwing back the covers he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He walked over to his duffle and gingerly pulled on a pair of jeans. A t-shirt was out and he grabbed a button down shirt fastening it as he walked to the door. When he opened the door he heard a voice downstairs.

_"They are the ones. You must confront them."_

Dean leaned on the door jam as a wave of vertigo assaulted him. When it passed he moved to the stairs and slowly made his way down.

"I'm going to head upstairs," Caleb said. "Get some sleep."

"Why bother?" John glanced at his watch. "It's already five in the morning."

"Some of us need more then just coffee to keep us going," Reaves said, stepping out of the sitting room. "Dean, what are you doing up?"

The blond hunter stepped into the room and stopped. "You!"

Next thing Caleb knew Dean was launching himself at John. The younger Winchester caught his father off guard and they crashed to the floor. The gun John usually had tucked behind his back went skidding across the floor. Dean saw it, pushed off the older Winchester to snatch it up.

"Where is he!" Dean yelled, pointing the gun at Caleb and Mac.

John got slowly to his feet. "Dean, what the hell are you doing?"

Caleb watched as Dean's attention shifted to his father. When he was certain his friend wouldn't notice he started to maneuver to get behind him.

"Where. Is. He?"

"Where's who, Dean?" Mac asked, softly.

"My brother!"

"Sam's not here," John said. "He left."

"No." Dean shook his head. "You made him leave! Told him never to come back!"

Ames glanced at John. He could see the shame in his friend's eyes. The doctor turned back to Dean.

"Dean, Sam's alright. He went to college, remember?"

"No, he drove him away!" Dean argued, taking deadly aim at John. "He has to pay!"

Caleb grabbed Dean as he pulled the trigger. John staggered into Mac clutching his right bicep.

"No!" Dean screamed. "You're all in on it. You all took Sam from me!"

"I'm alright," John told Mac. "Help Caleb with Dean."

Caleb has his hands full as the younger hunter struggled in his arms.

"Let me go!" Dean resisted. "Sam's in danger. I have to find him!"

"Deuce, calm down!" Caleb commanded. "Dad, you going to give me a hand here?"

"I don't dare give him a sedative," Mac said, reaching out to touch Dean.

"Stay away from me!" Dean thrashed about harder. "You can't keep me from Sam."

"Then what the hell are we going to do?"

"Choke him out," John replied through clenched teeth.

"John!" Mackland argued.

"What choice do we have?" John reasoned. "Caleb, do it."

Reaves gave his father an apologetic look as he wrapped his right arm around Dean's throat. The younger hunter struggled as Caleb applied pressure. It wasn't long before Dean slumped in his arms. Ames quickly checked the younger man as his son eased him to the floor.

"What the hell is going on?" Caleb walked over to John, helping him into a chair.

Mac checked Dean's eyes and wasn't surprised to see them dilated. "You said she was a voodoo priestess?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Many of their rituals call for them to go into trances," the doctor explained. "They use herbs and elixirs for that."

"The jars he crashed into. . ." John grimaced as Caleb ripped the sleeve off his shirt.

Mac stood and moved to John's side. "That would be my guess."

"The bullet passed right through," the dark haired hunter said. "I'll get your bag."

"He alright?" John asked.

"For now," Mackland said, looking at John's arm. "Did you really tell Sam not to come back?"

"Do we have to get into this now?" John glared. "What I did or didn't do with Sam isn't relevant right now."

"It is to Dean."

Mac didn't say anything else as Caleb returned with his bag. While his father took care of the Knight's arm, Reaves went over to Dean.

"Son, do you think you can get him back upstairs?"

"Yeah, I'll manage."

John watched as Caleb lifted his son. It was hard for him to watch as someone else cared for his eldest child. He'd already lost his youngest.


	5. Chapter 5

John sat next to his son's bed and rubbed the bandage on his right arm. They had just finished strapping Dean to the bed. Mackland explained why he couldn't sedate the youngest hunter. He was worried about drug interactions, not knowing how another drug introduced into Dean's system would affect him. It was hard seeing his eldest hurt. John reached out and ran his hand over Dean's short hair.

"John."

Winchester looked over at Mac sitting in a chair on the other side of the bed. Caleb was sitting next to his father watching Dean.

"What?"

"What happened when Sam left?" Mackland asked.

"None of you business," John said defensively.

"Like hell it isn't!" Caleb argued.

Mac put a hand on his son's arm. "John, we need to know what happened. It might help us when Dean regains consciousness."

John sat back in the chair, rubbing his hands over the stubble on his face. "You can probably figure it out."

"You and Sam started shouting at each other," Caleb accused. "Neither one of you even thought about what that would do to Dean. Did you?"

"Caleb," Ames warned.

John glared at Reaves. "You don't know anything!"

"I know Dean's had to play referee between the two of you for years!" Reaves shouted.

"Enough!" Mackland gave the two hunters a withering stare. "This won't help Dean."

"You're right," John agreed. "It's true Sam and I argued about him leaving. He had a job to do, but that didn't matter to him. He just wanted a 'normal' life. Like the one I provided him was so bad."

"The life you provided them wasn't easy," Mack said gently.

"Just because Sam didn't have a white picket fence didn't mean he didn't have a home," John said angrily. "His home was Dean and me!"

"Sam has always wanted more from life than hunting," Ames said. "But that doesn't matter now. What happened that night?"

"We argued," Winchester said. "I should have known something was up when Dean didn't step in to stop us. Found out that Dean knew about Sam applying. So I yelled at him too."

"Then what happened?" Mac asked.

" I told Sam that if he walked out to never come back again."

"Real smart." Caleb smirked, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms. "What did Dean do?"

"Nothing." John sighed. "Sam stormed out of the motel and never looked back."

"Dean just let him go?" Mackland was surprised.

"You know Dean," John said, leaning his elbows on his knees to stare at his son. "He'd do anything to make Sammy happy."

"Even letting him go," Caleb concluded.

"He never said anything but I knew he was upset." John sighed. "He went out and got drunk in a bar. He said a few choice things to me before he passed out. Next morning it was like nothing happened. He just threw himself into the hunt."

Caleb grunted, shaking his head. "What did you expect? Without Sam there to protect there was nothing for him to do but hunt."

"Have you talked to him about Sam?"

"Dean hasn't mentioned him since he left," John said.

The comment Caleb was about to make died on his lips when they heard a soft moan from Dean. John tensed as his son opened his eyes and looked wildly around. When the youngest hunter knew he was tied down he began to struggle.

"Let me go!"

"Calm down, Dean." The neurosurgeon placed his hand on his arm. "Everything will be alright."

"She told me you were the ones I should fear," Dean growled. "You all drove Sam away."

"Dean listen to me," John said, sternly. "You've been drugged. None of us have done anything."

Dean started laughing. The sound made Caleb's skin crawl. Maybe if he just took a peek he could find out what was going on inside the younger man's head. It was easy to gain access but Reaves wasn't prepared for what he found. Dean's thoughts tumbled over themselves worrying about Sam. Missing him at Thanksgiving and Christmas. But most of all missing his little brother's birthday yesterday. Dean wanted to blame it all on his father, but knew he was just as responsible. That if anything happened to his brother it would be his fault for letting him go. Caleb tried to reason with him, but was brought up short when an image of a beautiful woman pushed its way to the front. He watched as she pinned Dean to the wall. When he heard what she told Dean, he understood why the blond didn't trust any of them. Next thing Reaves knew he was flying across the room.

Mackland grabbed his son as he almost fell out of the chair. "Son?"

"Shit," Caleb groaned. "That wasn't pleasant. But I know why Dean doesn't trust us."

John looked up from adjusting the wide strips of cloth holding Dean to the bed. "What did you see?"

"That Bitch twisted his mind."

"Dad, please," Dean pleaded. "You have to let me go."

"I can't kiddo," John said.

"Bastard!" the younger Winchester yelled. "You just want the demon to find Sam!"

Ames saw the hurt in the Knight's eyes but it passed quickly. "Mac isn't there anything you can do?"

"I could start an IV to help flush out the drugs."

"But?" Reaves asked.

"The way he's fighting I don't dare stick a needle in him."

"So all we can do is wait." John said , placing his hand on Dean's arm.

Reaves nodded, placing his hand on Dean's leg. Mac sighed thinking it was going to be long morning.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 

Caleb leaned back stretching his tall frame in the hardback chair. It was around midnight but soulful blues music could be heard coming from the house next door.

The neighbor had come over to find out if they'd heard the gunfire earlier. Mac apologized about the entertainment system being too loud. The gunfire was from a television show they had been watching. Reaves smiled remembering the woman thinking his father was ever so handsome.

The rest of the day hadn't been so pleasant. The drugs in Dean's system kept him combative late into the evening. Dean accused his father of killing his mother and abandoning Sam to the same fate. Caleb was seen as his father's lackey doing whatever John said without question. Mackland was the know-it-all, busy body who was always trying to interfere. Caleb knew Dean wasn't in his right mind but some of things he said stung.

Reaves sat up rubbing his hands over his face. The drugs wore off a few hours ago and Dean was now quiet. He was also exhausted and sleeping soundly. The dark haired hunter turned towards the door as he heard it open.

"When did you get back?"

"You don't have to watch him all night," John said, stepping into the room.

"I know." Reaves sighed. "I just wanted to make sure he was alright."

"Yeah."

Caleb watched as John sat on the bed next to his son. His mentor was never demonstrative with his sons. It was odd for Caleb to watch as the older Winchester ran his hand gently over Dean's hair. He saw John check the binding that kept Dean's left arm immobile.

"He's going to hate that."

"It's what he gets for dislocating his arm." John smiled. "He needs to learn not all pretty faces can be trusted."

"I think he learned his lesson." Caleb smiled. "So did you take care of her?"

"Yup."

The psychic could tell John didn't want to talk about it so he didn't push. "We might as well get some sleep."

The younger man suited actions to words and stretched out in the second bed in the room. John pulled the blanket higher and tucked them around his son. He stood and walked towards the door.

"What? I don't get tucked in?"

John turned glaring. "I might come over and do something you'll regret."

Caleb laughed as John shut the door.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

The noises weren't familiar. The sounds of birds chirping along with something else he couldn't identify was confusing. Dean opened his eyes, taking in the unfamiliar room. When his fuzzy brain finally woke up he realized he did remember the room, but not how he got back there. Last thing he remembered was the spirit. He raised his right hand to rub his forehead, wincing when he hit the stitches. Sighing, he decided to take stock. Stitches weren't his only injury when he realized his left arm was strapped to his chest. He knew what that meant and silently cursed. Now fully awake he could hear a god-awful racket coming from the other bed. Turning he saw Caleb sprawled on the other bed snoring. Dean reached behind his head pulling out one of the pillows and throwing it. It barely made its mark, but it was enough to make Reaves bolt up.

"Do you mind?" Dean grumbled. "Some people are trying to sleep."

"Ungrateful jerk."

"What the hell happened?" Dean asked.

The psychic swung his legs over the side of the bed. "What do you remember?"

"We playing twenty questions?"

"Humor me." Caleb watched as Dean chewed his lower lip.

"That bitch had me pinned against the wall," he said. "She knew about Sammy. That I should watch the ones closest to me. But it didn't make any sense."

"That all?"

"Hell no." The blond glared. "She threw me against the damned wall!"

Caleb laughed. "That's when I found you. Out cold. Had to carry your sorry ass out to the car."

"You're all heart, Damien." Dean knew something else happened. "What aren't you telling me?"

Before Caleb could answer, John opened the door. "Thought I heard voices."

"Hey," Dean said.

"How you feeling?" John said, stepping into the room.

Dean noticed the bandage on his fathers arm. "What happened to you?"

"You shot me." Caleb could kick John.

"Come again?" Dean was bewildered.

"You heard me," John said, sitting on the bed by Dean's feet.

Dean scowled, trying to remember. Images came to him. Tackling his father, pulling the gun. Then a blank until he was in this room tied down screaming at his father, Mac and Caleb.

"What the fuck happened!"

"Watch you mouth," John warned. "You were drugged."

Dean's eyebrows shot up to his hairline as he stared at his father.

"Do you remember the shelves in that room?" Caleb asked.

"Yeah," Dean said. "I also remember slamming into them. What's that got to do with me being drugged?

"It was the priestesses work room," Reaves said. "All sorts of fun herbs and other things in those jars."

"You weren't thinking straight," John said. "Thought we were holding Sammy. Got a hold of my gun and shot me."

"Look, Dad…"

"Wasn't your fault," the older Winchester said. "Got something that might cheer you up."

John tossed a key ring at Dean's chest.

"What are these?"

"What do they look like?"

"The keys to the Impala." Dean shrugged and winced.

"Wouldn't do that if I was you," Caleb offered.

"Thanks," Dean said, sarcastically. He turned back to his father "So I shoot you and get the Impala."

"Shit, if you had known that a few years ago you would have shot him," Caleb pointed out.

"Damn straight." Dean smiled.

"What makes you think you could have?" Winchester asked.

"I did it this time."

"With a little help from some truly potent drugs," John pointed out. "You up for some breakfast?"

"I am kinda hungry."

"I'll bring something up," John offered.

"I'm going to hit the shower," Caleb said, heading for the door.

Dean watched both of them walk out. As they were talking Dean remember more about what happened. He couldn't believe some of the things he said to his father and the two people he thought as family. They didn't deserve that, didn't matter if it was the drugs talking. Some how he'd make it up to all of them.


	7. Chapter 7

Epilogue 

Dean sat on a bench reading the paper. He'd been out here a little over an hour just watching as people hustled by. Sitting quietly was never a strong point of his but he was trying not to draw attention to himself. While he waited, he thought about what happened in New Orleans. He remembered almost everything he said while he was drugged. Patching things up with his extended family hadn't been easy. Dean wasn't one to say sorry so in his round about way he'd apologized to each of them. It took a few days to talk to each of them separately. The hardest one he had to face was his father. They came to an understanding about some issues. When everything was said Dean explained to his father that he needed some time on his own. He also explained that by going there separate ways they could cover more ground. Hunt more supernatural beings.

John packed up his new truck and left the next day. Caleb decided to stick around until Dean was able to leave. With his shoulder bound there was no way he could drive the Impala. For the next two weeks the two hunters drove the Scholar to distraction. He hadn't told anyone where he was going, but after the run in with the priestess there was something he had to do

The clock in the tower chimed twice and Dean watched as the building around him came alive with people. The newspaper stayed in front of him, but he carefully looked over the top for his prey. It wasn't long before he spotted him. Taller than all around him he wasn't hard to see. Dean's heart beat faster when he saw the familiar face. Sammy was walking with another kid who was talking animatedly. His brother was smiling and joking. Dean wasn't sure what he felt when he saw his brother happy without him. As he watched he saw a cute blonde walk over to Sam. She grabbed his arm and pulled him down for a kiss. Dean felt like he was suffocating. He knew why his brother hadn't called. At first he thought Sam was just being stubborn. But his brother had his slice of normal and he wasn't looking back. Dean watched as the three of them sat on the grass talking. He'd seen what he'd come for. Sam was safe. The hunter stood and walked away.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSN

"Come on, Sam. This party is going to rock."

"I have to study," Sam argued. "Professor Simmons is a real hard ass."

"You know you'll pass," Jessica said. "We can go to the party for a little while."

"I suppose."

Sam just smiled as Jesse kissed him. He was sitting talking with his friends when he thought he heard something familiar. The rumble was unmistakable and it brought back memories Sam had tried to forget. He stood quickly, looking around.

"Sam, what is it?" Jessica asked, alarmed.

Sam turned in a circle, but didn't see the familiar black car.

"Sam?"

"It's nothing," he said. With a smile he sat down next to his girlfriend.

They continued talking then Sam's phone rang interrupting the conversation. It was a text message from a phone number he didn't recognize. He was about to delete it, but something made him stop.

_Happy belated birthday…BITCH!_

Sam smiled as he closed his phone.

* * *

Thanks for all the great feedback. I had a great time writing this.

3/22/07


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